


Epic of Kirk and Spock

by Attorney C (arh581958)



Series: Adventures with the Ross Twins [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Beginnings of Modern Family, Breakfast, Cute!Kids, Dad!Harvey, Dad!mike, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Harvey POV, Harvey-centric, M/M, Marvey Fic Challenges, Missing Scene, Modern family - Freeform, Pancakes, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Tumblr Prompt, marveyficchallenges, parent!Harvey, parent!mike, pining!Harvey, pre-Marvey, set in "Mrs. Puppy came to Town"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 07:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8153980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Attorney%20C
Summary: Harvey never believed that he could have this. After years of pining after his only associate, he wakes up with a warm body next to his and a warm feeling in his gut--only things aren't all as they seem. Mike's still running a temperature, and it's up to Harvey to take care of things while he's out for the count. (Or: Harvey's first taste of daddyhood.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Buzzwell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buzzwell/gifts), [Sam786](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam786/gifts), [Hardleyf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardleyf/gifts).



> Written for MarveyFicChallenge #58 - The Talented Mr. Specter
> 
>  **Notes** : You don't need to read the previous story to understand this. All you need to know is that Mike has twin boys, Jaime and Raphy, and Harvey's yet to figure out that the twins' mom is completely out the picture. That's about it. Enjoy~ 
> 
> **Dedication:** To the wonderful people whom this story is gifted to, this is a bribe in hopes that you'll help me again with my stories. I really _need_ and _want_ it since I feel like I'm getting lost again. Huhu. *cries* oh the drama. But, please to drop me a line soon~ I have something to ask~  <3

Harvey wakes up early in the morning because of the movement in his apartment. There’s an extremely warm body next to him, which isn’t odd _per se_ but definitely not the norm. One-night stands are for hotel room and bar lounges not bedrooms and breakfast bars. He squints at the early morning sun and sees a tuff of messy blond hair sticking out from under his comforter. It’s too short to belong to a woman, and it’s familiar.

“Mike?” His voice is raspy from sleep. The events of yesterday come crawling back to him—the jealousy that burned inside his gut at the thought of Mike with another. His childishness brought Mike here in a fevered-state and led to his unconventional meeting of the twins. Humiliation comes crashing down. Beside him, the blond doesn’t even stir.

More noise comes from just beyond his door.

Harvey gingerly pries himself away from Mike’s long limbs. Sleep-warm skin’s no longer as feverish as the night before. He covers Mike’s forehead with his palm to make sure. It’s not as hot. Another day’s rest would surely cure Mike of his ailment. That, and a bowl of his father’s vegetable beef soup.

“Harvey?” a voice from the couch says softly as he exits the bedroom. “Daddy okay?” Jamie, the one wearing a rumpled dark blue shirt, asks him.

“Yeah,” Harvey replies, keeping his voice light. “Your daddy’s going to be fine, kid. His fever’s gone down but he should be back to normal by tonight if he gets enough rest.”

Jaime nods at that but says nothing else. He stares pointedly at the blank screen, huddling the throw pillows he’s been using. “We… we going to keep watching movies again? Dun wanna be a bother.” His whole demeanor screams worry and agitation.

Harvey wants to wash all that away. He knees beside the couch despite his protesting knees. “Hey, no, you’re not a bother, Jaime. Never a bother, okay? You, Raphy, or Mike. None of you will ever be a bother to me. You got that?”

Jaime lowers his head and doesn’t answer.

Sighing, Harvey runs a hand through his loose hair. He knows the basics of child-rearing from weekends spent with his brother’s family but never how to deal with dejected-looking eight-year-olds. Thinking of what made _him_ happy at eight proves difficult enough. But then, last night’s promise to Raphy echoes in his mind.

“Hey, do you know how to make pancakes?” He asks, smiling.

Jaime looks at him with furrowed brows. “Who doesn’t? Pour in the bowl, add egg, add water, then stir.”

Harvey laughs at that, shaking his head. “I’m not talking about ready-made ones. I’m talking about good old fashioned measuring out ingredients one at a time. Think you’re up for learning that? I kind of promised Raphy here,” he nudges Raphy’s foot with his finger, “that we’ll make breakfast together. But he doesn’t look like he’s getting up anytime soon.”

“It’s _Raphy_ ,” Jaime says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s never early. We get late to school a lot ‘cause he won’t wake up. Look,” he pokes his twin brother in the ribs less than gently, making Raphy squirm and mumbled out “five more minutes” under his breath. Then, he looks at Harvey, “See?”

Harvey chuckles again. “Yes, I see. Well, don’t worry, in my experience, it’s the younger brother who always wakes up late and makes everyone tardy. But we should wake him up or he’ll miss all the fun in the kitchen.” Jaime makes a face. “Don’t worry, Harvey assures, I’ll let you flip the pancakes.”

It takes them ten more minutes to pull a groggy Raphy into the kitchen. Jaime sits on one of the stools to help his brother keep balance. Harvey pulls ingredients from the shelves—flour, baking powder, salt, sugar. Then, he goes to the fridge to get the milk, eggs, and butter. Once he’s done that, he gathers the pan, the measuring spoons, the bowl, the whisk, the spatula, and a squeeze bottle.

“Alright, crew, we’re ready for mission.” He says, handing Raphy the flour and Jamie everything else. He writes the recipe on a kitchen napkin with a pen he found from one of the drawers, then goes about teaching them the different measuring devices, appliance, and other things in the kitchen.

“Like this, Harvey?” Raphy asks, awake and now enthusiastically digging into the large jar of flour. A puff of light white smoke comes out, making him sneeze.

“Raphy!” Jaime reprimands. “You’re gonna get snot in the batter!” He guards the open jar of baking soda with his hands diligently. Both boys have white flecks on their shirts, Jamie in blue while Raphy in maroon. Even Harvey isn’t spared from the mess when Raphy points an accusing finger at Jaime, flicking the left over flour from the measuring cup flying to Harvey’s face.

“No! Harvey, I’m sorry!” Raphy cries, looking for all the world like his eyes are brimming in tears.

Harvey didn’t have the heart to chastise him. Instead, he says, “I won’t get mad if you promise to clean this up.”

Raphy nods eagerly. “I promise! I promise!”

“You don’t even know how to clean your side of the room!” Jamie snorts, indignant.

This far, only half of the ingredients have made it to the mixing bowl. The twins are looking at each other like bloody murder. Harvey recognizes that look from how he and Marcus were before. It’s a brawl waiting to happen, and he isn’t ready for that in his kitchen.

“Alright, alright, break it up you little mess monsters or _both_ of you will be cleaning up the kitchen.”

The twins make dual whining keening noises and lower their improvised lances aka kitchen tools—Raphy with the half-cup measuring cup and Jaime with the tablespoon spoon. The latter wouldn’t have a chance.

Harvey pries the kitchen utensils from their white-stained hands and shows them how to crack eggs with one hand. He feels a little bit like an Iron Chef with the attention they’re giving him. Raphy gets whisking duty (not too rough, Raphy) while Harvey shows Jaime how to properly open and operate the stove without getting burned. The butter is at room temperature by the time they use it to grease the pans.

“Ready for some magic?” Harvey asks, straining the batter into the bottle to remove any stray lumps. The boys look at him funny.

“Why you pouring that in a bottle?” Jaime asks.

“You suppose to use a soup spoon like daddy,” Raphy adds.

‘Soup spoon,’ Harvey thinks for a while before he gets it. “You mean a ladle like this?” He tugs on the cabinet and pulls one out.

“Yeah!” Both twins beam in recognition.

Harvey puts it back then finishes capping the squeeze bottle. “I can use that too. Are you sure you want me to make boring round pancakes? When I can make something more awesome?”

Jamie and Raphy stare at him like he’s grown another head.

“Here, watch,” Harvey says, writing out a ‘hi’ spelled backwards. He leaves it that simple then flips it a minute later. It forms the word perfectly in a dark shade of brown. Part of the reason he made it so small is because the pan takes a while to properly heat up and the first pancake always looks a little burnt. The twins light up with excitement.

“That is—,” Raphy starts.

“—so wicked!” Jamie finishes.

Harvey takes it as a signal to make more. He starts off simply with the twin’s names in block letters, outlining them before filling it in to make two shades of golden brown. He flips it with expert ease, smiling as the twins gaze up at him like he’s some sort of demi-god. It fills his chest with giddiness and pride to see them to enraptured.

“More please,” they quickly say. Jaime’s all but forgotten the want to flip pancakes, too mesmerized.

After their names, Harvey moves on to more complicated designs. He tries doodling and lets the movements take him back to days when he used to do this at home during summer vacation. His father, being a jazz-man, often had to work until the wee hours of the morning and Harvey took it upon himself to make breakfast whenever he can so that his Oldman gets a break. Marcus followed in his footsteps with supper when he grew old enough to reach the stovetop.

He thinks of what he can draw and what the twins would enjoy. Soon, the smell of freshly made pancakes fill the kitchen even with the range-hood whirling overhead. Baseballs, footballs, basketballs, poorly made golf balls which look like ugly moons, and soccer balls pile onto the black rectangular ceramic plate.

“Make something harder! Make something harder!” They cajole.

Harvey draws William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy as Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. It’s the hardest piece yet and for a moment he questions whether or not he has enough batter. He finishes Kirk first with darker shades, mid-tone outlines, and a pale golden brown filling. Then, he moves to Spock’s darker brown hair, brows, and facial lines before filling everything out. When he flips them over, the come out looking like amateur caricatures and he pats himself on the back.

“That is so—” Jaime says, and Raphy finishes. “—cool!” Their earlier argument over sneezing and condiments forgotten as they stare wide-eyed at the freshly made Star Trek pancakes.

“I get Mr. Spock!” Jaime announces, fishing the said pancake before Raphy gets to react.

The younger twin huffs and tugs on the Kirk pancake. “Spock sucks anyway,” he grumbles under his breath.

Harvey can’t help but chuckle at their brotherly antics. He remembers much of his childhood when he watches them interacting. The squeeze bottle and the spatula go to the sink while the pan stays on the stove to cool. He takes the last plate on the island counter and piles the last two baseball pancakes on his plate.

“You like baseball?” a new voice asks.

Glancing up, he sees Mike enter the kitchen in his old Harvard hoodie and a pair of low-hanging sweat pants. His skin’s less pale than the night before but not nearly as radiant as it could be. A flush still colors his cheeks slightly. The blond looks around, huffs, then throws his head back in laughter.

“Dad!” Jaime and Raphy say in unison. Mike drops kisses on their forehead and looks at the mess on their shirts.

“What happened here? It looks like a disaster zone!” He says, holding his stomach as he laughs. It only lasts a few seconds. Then, his eyes fall to the pancakes between Harvey and the twins. “You made those? Oh, wow, Harvey those are really good—like really good. They really look like Kirk and Spock.”

Harvey fights the blush that threatens to rise. “Yes, well, it’s something to make Marcus eat his food when we were younger.”

Mike sits on the stool beside Harvey. “One, ever heard of a dining table? It’s like right there,” he points to the six-seater table less than four feet away. “Two, I didn’t know you had a brother. You never really mention him so I’m assuming you’re not really that close. And three, you never answered my question. You like baseball?”

The corners of Harvey’s lips twitch. “I plead the fifth on your first question but I’ll answer the last two. You’re not wrong with Marcus but you aren’t right either. Things with him are… complicated but we still do talk. As for the baseball thing, I’m surprised that you didn’t really notice the baseball bat in my bedroom. It’s not for show and it’s definitely not for suspicious persons lurking around my apartment. I pay a premium for building security. I’ll sue them if that ever happens.”

Mike laughs weakly, voice cracking. “That I can definitely see.” He nods in agreement. “That’s quite something you did there, Harvey,” he says, looking at his children happily eating fictional characters’ faces. “You didn’t have to go through all that. Those two will eat anything you put in front of them.”

“Tch. Sounds like someone I know.” Harvey gets a kick to the shin for that. “That’s no way to treat the feeder of your children and the feeder of you. One more time, Ross, and I’m taking away your pancake privileges.” Mike pouts and pulls his foot away. Harvey smiles. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve had someone to share those with. Round pancakes are boring pancakes.”

“Hey!” Mike retorts, “You try making those fancy things when you’re running late for work and you work for the devil himself.”

‘Oh, I’d love to,’ Harvey thinks but, outwardly, he just rolls his eyes. “I should tell Louis that you can join his Drama Club but I won’t since I take being called the devil as a compliment. “Stay here. I’ll go get you a plate.” He says, moving towards the overhead cabinets behind them.

The twins launch into a retelling of the epic breakfast-making adventure. When he turns around, he sees them talking animatedly with their hands as their father laughs at their antics. A pleasantly warm feeling settles into his stomach. Mike and the twins, laughter and noise, messy pancakes and all—this might not be the norm for him but, if he can help it, he sure as hell wants to wake up to it every single day.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Notes** : This takes place the weekend where Mike gets sick and stays over at Harvey's condo with the twins. Remember when Harvey promised Raphy to make breakfast the next morning? Well, now you know what happened between that night and Harvey going to Donna the next morning. I always intended to write this scene but, at the time, it wasn't important to the narrative. Thank you Aqua and Erin for being awesome and giving me a reason to write this~ Kisses~
> 
> Oh, wow! Six stories in the series since I started this last year. I can hardly believe it~ I challenge you to guess Harvey's talents, and you might get a Christmas story! Hihi. I have three headcanons in my head of the many talents of one Harvey Specter written/implied in the story. 
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)~
> 
> As always, **kudos/comments/bookmarks** are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I _do_ read the bookmark tags (some are really fun).


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